***
Achil woke to find Nishga placing the Orb back in the Holdall.
“Andreas and Nicholas have left for the harbour area and they have said not to expect them to return. Tomorrow at midmorning that's when they intend firing the ships. That now leaves us to go down to have a look at 'Guild House',” said Nishga, her face showing the concern she felt for the task ahead.
“Make sure we have everything we need,” replied a tired Achil, stretching out his arms and brushing the sleep from his eyes.
“I’ll take the map, the silver sphere, the Orb and don’t you forget that capsule Telallamain gave to you,” replied Nishga.
She stood up to look once more at the map.
Achil reached into his bag and drew out the vial. He stared at it a moment, thinking how ironic that within such a little thing was contained so much power. His face was pensive, reflective: this was not the way he had been taught to fight a war, what he was doing was unfamiliar and alien to him to have to fight surreptitiously, deviously, without facing the enemy on the open field. He grudgingly placed the vial in his pocket. Nishga slung her small holdall over her shoulder; she understood that brooding look on Achil’s face, his disquiet, the calm before the storm. She smiled slightly, her lips barely creasing her face, she gestured with a slight tilt of her head, Achil slowly stood up and the two were gone from the room. They did not rush; they did not have to as they mixed in with the daily bustle of the streets. They passed one of the open park areas, young families were out laughing and joking amongst themselves, going about innocently, unconcerned with the affairs of state. After the park area, they arrived at the local Agora, large shops and small stalls crammed tightly together; people were haggling over inconsequential items. Parents were ignoring the tears of their children who were too tired to continue. Flies buzzed all around, the similarities to home were remarkable thought Achil. The Commercial heart of the city was more incredible still, building upon building rose up to eight storeys high, higher in fact. Built of large connecting stone blocks, large panoramic windows afforded grand views of the city. The building at the centre, the most grand, dazzling, decorative, and striking of them all had inscribed ‘Guild House’ running round the building in between the windows were frescos of the separate casts. The designs were made from gold as were the two statues to the front on either side of the doors leading up the steps. The Atrium had a small raised open area with a fountain at the centre. Nishga and Achil sat down on one of the benches in a small green area opposite. They had reached the apex of Imperial life. The question was what to do next. They had come all that way to buy some time for their own people. None of them had realised how powerful or awesome the Mandrake were. Could such an attack really hope to succeed, to stay the Imperium's mighty hand or would it simply galvanise the beast, unite it like never before. They watched as people entered the building. Someone came with a cart full of food stuffs. They were directed to the traders entrance at the rear. Achil gestured to Nishga with a slight tilt of his head. The two rose and followed the cart. In design the building was fittingly enough in the shape of a snake about to strike, the stone work was impressive, but more awesome still was its height.
As they made their way round to the back they found what they were looking for. A shutter door at the rear had a small grated vent to one side, which could be lifted; at its side was a small shed for waist. There was a ramp leading down into a storage area where people were busy with their daily chores. There were several Flues in the shape of so many miniature houses jutting out of the ground floor rear promontory; all were venting smoke from the large clay ovens within. All they needed to do was drop the ampoule into one of those chimneys, and no more guilders.
Achil and Nishga had seen enough, they left tracing the route they were to take for the next day. The city had a buzz about it, money had flowed into it from the four corners of the empire, and it was the largest most extravagant creation. The architecture, the sculptures, the magnificent golden statues, were impressive, disguising a more ominous and sinister side; this was no friendly empire; people often disappeared off the streets for questioning, or were taken into the army by the pressgangs. Cities that had revolted had been destroyed, entire populations placed into slavery. So why then, by the time the two had reached their room did an uneasy silence settle on both of them.
Achil lay back on the bed, Nishga stood in silence staring out of the window, the empire needed changing that could not be denied, but was this really the way to do it.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Nishga with a heavy heart.
“I’m thinking that this is an awful situation to be in,” Achil replied solemnly.
“Who would have thought all those years ago after our first meeting that it would have led to this? To have to kill the innocent to punish the wicked,” murmured Nishga.
“If they are innocent,” said Achil impassively.
“You and I both know that tomorrow the innocent will die with the guilty,” said Nishga.
“That’s war Nishga; it's no different from when Findolin was besieged by the Imperium,” said Achil quietly as though he were thinking aloud.
“Will that justify it, look at how much like our enemy we've become or perhaps we're now worse. With Findolin at least we had warning of what was happening. It was bloody, it was violent but it was honest,” said Nishga.
“This is war, there is nothing honest about it,” said Achil. “War in itself is a lie. It is one person inflicting their will on another. There have never been clean wars; even our heroes are but the enemies villains. War is a dirty, unwholesome, callous business that everyone should abhor. The problem is the Mandrake Imperium don’t hate it, they love it. Their love of power is as strong as their greed they'll steal other nations riches, and why? It's not because anyone threatens them, who could? They simply put, can't have enough.”
“So you think its all Jin’s fault,” said Nishga sullenly.
“Nishga! That's not the way it works here,” replied Achil. “And even he according to the Queen of Askalon was good once. And don’t you think if Jin died tomorrow someone would soon replace him, because in the end you can't destroy an idea? It’s the entire mind-set of this Empire that’s grotesque. The system is corrupt because it lends itself to an insatiable craving that can never be satisfied. And the sad thing is that the Mandrake are so wrapped up in the idea, that they cannot see that in the end it will bring about their own destruction. They don’t understand that freedom should be for everyone and not just an elite few: freedom to think what you want, as long as you don’t try to inflict yourself on others in a harmful manner. To become who you want, without being barred by Merchant Guilds that control and monopolise practically all trade, to have the freedom just to be free and not enslaved. They could never build a better community, and the offspring of the one they've got, could even become far worse; so no Nishga I firmly believe in what we are doing, and though it may be dirty, it is also necessary.”
“That last word of yours ‘necessary’ it could be taken straight from the Mandrake vocabulary. I wonder how many vile things they’ve done that were ‘necessary‘,” replied Nishga.
Achil turned on his side.
“Tomorrow midmorning we strike,” responded Achil.
“We’re on our own from this time forward, until we make our escape,” replied Nishga, thoughtfully.
The two fell into another uncomfortable silence.
A restless night ensued; they woke before dawn gathered their things together and crept out of the lodge, as they had done before, choosing to take the elevator to the basement and then sneaking out the back door. They made their way over to the heart of the city and ‘Guild House,’ and found a place to hide; behind some large wooden refuse bins in an open shed to the rear of the building. They waited like rats in the shadows, and rats crept between their feet. The sun was beginning to rise; it was not long before people began arriving in golden extravagant horse drawn carriages, othe
rs possibly more humble folk arrived on foot. And still they had not been discovered. By midmorning it was time to act. Achil and Nishga made their way toward the large shutter door at the rear of the building. He pulled across a box stood it on its side and was about to climb onto the first floor level. When two men appeared round the side, they drew their swords and levelled them at the two conspirators. They were dressed in fine merchant garments. Both were tall with long dark hair and blue eyes appearing from beneath their helmets. They wore tunics of silk with a leather belt round the middle. Their black leather breeches were tucked beneath black leather boots their aspect was menacing and severe.
“Step down,” said the taller of the two men. The other held his sword unwavering toward the midriff of Nishga.
“You will come with us,” the man spoke with a stoic confident tone.
Achil climbed down from the box and he and Nishga followed the lead of the two men. They sheathed their swords and produced two daggers which they held close to the plotters so that they could not be seen, and directed them across the road and away from the now bustling centre, the two men directed their captors into a side alley and forced them to its end.
One of them placed his dagger back in its small holster while the other checked that they had not been seen.
“I am Softa, this is Anrill we are one of the other groups sent out from Findolin.”
“Why did you stop us then? And what’s going on?” asked Achil suspiciously.
“We do not have much time, so I'll be brief, we've been following your small troop Achil since you encountered the Mead settlement in the forest,” replied Softa. “The reason we have halted you like this is because word got to us recently that the Merchant Guilds are divided as to what they want, that is the real reason as to this conference and why it includes all the established Guild houses; you see apparently some wish to expand into the barren lands whilst others have a desire to concentrate on trade rather than conquest. That means that your mission is at an end. You do not need to kill Jin or the head of the Guild houses. But you do need to leave for Findolin with this information and without delay; tell them the Mandrake Imperium does not want to war against us, they seek out another prize.”
“Why we are here is our own business. And preventing our mission is not a way to win my trust?” replied Achil.
“Then listen closely, it was I who placed the Orb on your pillow, after Est, who we discovered later to be one of Jin’s agents, had stolen it from you,” he said. “We did not realise at the time her purpose in all this, we thought her just another opportunistic thief, if we had, we would not have let her escape so easily, and perhaps Ventrigar would still be alive. You see it's clear to us now that it was Est who killed him, after he had discovered her true identity, and it was only after he had been killed and she removed, that her real identity became obvious. It's just a shame that word must have reached her of his imminent arrival and she acted before he could. And unfortunately in the beginning we were deceived into thinking she could just be who she said she was; a guide, especially after those strange werebeasts of Jin waylaid you on the mountain, they would have killed you all, including her, had we not interceded to drive them off, there were a lot more of us then so believe me when I say we've made many sacrifices on your behalf. Now tell me how could we know that if we were not who we say we are, and do you honestly think you would still be alive, if we were working for the Imperium.”
"Those are both good points, and there is much in what you say that makes me believe that you are telling the truth, it is strange though, as a man by the name of Telallamain who is the head of the Black Marketeers, told us, that he had killed Ventrigar? And as for Est, she's dead, I suppose that's what you mean by removed," replied Nishga.
“Ventrigar was one of us, he was sent to infiltrate the Black Marketeers, and even though he did to a certain degree, I'm afraid all that he knew died with him; why Telallamain took credit for it I don't know, perhaps it would have shown weakness in front of his subordinates to admit to anything else, and that could have led to his own demise, or maybe he believed you had done it and he wished to draw attention away from that idea, just in case someone in his ranks took it upon themselves to avenge his death. And as for Est, she was never killed but was whisked away by the Wrath and that's what I mean by removed," said Softa.
"But there was a body," replied Nishga.
"We know, but it wasn't hers, I checked," said Anrill. "After the Orb had been retrieved, Jin must have got wind of the fact that Est's position had been compromised, and thought her in danger, so they concocted a story that she had died in a mountain accident so as not to cause suspicion, and then they planted a poor unfortunate slave in her place, someone expendable."
"This is all highly speculative, at our last meeting with Telallamain he gave us this vial, apparently it has incredible power,” said Achil.
"Incredible power you say," replied Anrill holding up the Vial to the light, and passing it to Softa. "We've had experience of such trinkets, and yes, we do know a little of Telallamain's methods."
"If it's what we think it is then you've been duped, watch," said Softa, he opened the top and smelled it with a grimace, before smashing it on the ground to the horror of Nishga and Achil. “Our information is that there are no true Black Marketeers left, they were either wiped out years ago, or were scattered to the four winds by Telallamain and his band of rogues, and he then stepped into the breach. They may call themselves the Black Marketeers, they may even walk like the Black Marketeers, but they're not; they're more deliberate, cunning and ruthless than their predecessors ever were. And the fact that no one in the Imperium, unless they were really desperate, got entangled in the mesh that was the original Black Marketeers, tells you exactly how bad Telallamain is. This potion he gave you is all bark and no bite; it's just smoke without fire; so the question we should really be asking is why he would give it to you in the first place, and what is his true intention? Do you really believe that someone like him would entrust such power into the hands of those he perceives to be his enemies; you should give him more credit than that.”
Achil and Nishga looked at each other understanding slowly creeping over their faces.
“Telallamain,” they said the name together.
“If that's his real name,” said Softa. “Listen, the fact that you've had dealings with him and are still alive is more down to chance than anything else; no disrespect but there are others that have more experience at subterfuge, and have been, shall we say less fortunate at surviving his subtle ways. Believe me when I say anyone who can step into the shoes of the Master of the Black Marketeers is a seriously dangerous man indeed, and unfortunately there's no one left alive that has been able to get close to him to find out his true purpose, no one except you of course, and you still don't know what he's about. One thing we have learnt is that he has no love for the Guilders which does point to some previous association with the original Black Marketeers, but that is neither here nor there. The thing is this, it should be obvious now that he's been playing you and the rest of us, and what is really disturbing is that whatever he's up to, it's not going to have a happy end."
"And that's an understatement," replied Anrill.
Suddenly there was a large explosion and the ground shook beneath them; they ran to the end of the alleyway, to watch 'Guild House' burn; sharp convulsing flames wrapped themselves around the fabric of the building; the heat was so incredible that the structure became instantly unstable. The four stood a moment in shock. Dust and smoke filled the air. A gong reverberated, deafening their ears; it was then answered throughout the city. In the distance a large plume of smoke was also rising from the harbour area. Achil grabbed Nishga’s hand forcing her back against the wall as thick choking smoke filled the air. Flaming debris began to rain down upon them as they hurriedly tried to cover themselves from the dire embrace of a choking fume.
“Nishga we have to leave," said Achil. “What are you two going to
do are you coming with us.”
“No, we need to stay and find out what in the world of Athrilla is going on; perhaps it was another group from Findolin we were unaware of, or one of the many enemies the Guilders have in the Imperium or for that matter outside it. You two cannot help us with this, get out while you can.”
The tortured air became heavy as it began to bristle with burning embers, and the two men using their turbans as gags disappeared into its thick gaseous pall, that scorched everything it touched.
Achil and Nishga raced to the back of the alley as dazed horrified and screaming men, women and children ran, fleeing from the scene. The fire from the wrecked building had now spread to the ones next to the alley. Nishga pulled out the silver sphere. Holding Achil’s hand she concentrated and then murmured something whilst picturing their destination in her mind the crystal beneath her tunic began to glow. There was another loud explosion and fragments of debris came hurtling towards them. At the same time the Sphere resonated, suddenly a blazing whirling light expanded to envelop them and then just as quickly as it had appeared it shrunk to nothing, leaving the alley empty except for the smoke and crashing stonework of erupting flame ridden buildings.